


The One You Were Sent to Save

by anodyneer



Series: Sharpie Hearts [3]
Category: White Collar
Genre: Alternate Universe, Developing Relationship, Flashbacks, Frottage, M/M, Oral Sex, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Self-Esteem Issues, Sleeping Together, Trust
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-23
Updated: 2014-10-23
Packaged: 2018-02-22 08:44:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2501645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anodyneer/pseuds/anodyneer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Neal reveals a key part of his troubled past to Peter, and Peter makes some revelations of his own - including a physical one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The One You Were Sent to Save

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Caffrey-Burke Day 2014! This is the third installment in an AU where Peter is a former NYPD detective who owns a private security firm, and Neal is a barista at Starbucks. It's helpful to have read the previous two fics in the series. Please pay attention to the rating and tags! Title is from "[Wave on Wave](http://youtu.be/fJWnIFlYKjs)" by Pat Green. (I've come to associate the Peter and Neal in this AU with this beautiful song, which has been a favorite of mine for over a decade.) 
> 
> The very talented [Kanarek13](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Kanarek13/pseuds/Kanarek13) has created amazing cover art for each fic in this series - thank you so much! :D

  


* * *

Peter sat across the table from Elizabeth Mitchell in one of his conference rooms, watching restlessly as she went through the paperwork to move all of her event security accounts to Thormond. He tried to resist the urge to check his phone, tried to remind himself that he shouldn’t let his personal life interfere with his job, but it was getting tougher with each passing minute. Each minute that he didn’t hear from Neal.

In spite of Neal’s unsettling flashback, Saturday had been wonderful, though they’d never gotten around to taking that next step. Neal had seemed buoyed by Peter’s support during the ordeal, and then their libidos made an unexpected appearance that was subsequently flat-lined by Mozzie, but Neal had grown quiet again during lunch.

After the meal, they’d decided to watch a movie to give the food time to digest, and Neal had promptly crashed, curled into Peter’s side. Peter couldn’t blame him; his flashback had been exhausting even to watch. And truth be told, Peter didn’t mind that Neal was spending so much of their time together sleeping. He was catching up on his rest, and when he was with Peter, he barely even stirred in his sleep.

When he’d awakened, though, Neal had seemed embarrassed – both by the fact that he’d fallen asleep on Peter yet again, and by memories of his flashback. Peter had tried to bring him back with smiles and small talk, but it became clear pretty quickly that Neal had checked out on their date. Peter tactfully begged off, making an excuse about needing to take care of some things at his apartment, and Neal was more than a little relieved, which promptly made Peter’s chest ache in a way he didn’t like.

He would have just chalked it up to the lingering embarrassment, but then he hadn’t heard anything from Neal on Sunday. He’d finally texted him early in the afternoon, asking how he was doing, and had gotten a two-word reply.

_I’m fine._

He’d then asked if Neal wanted to do anything and had gotten a similarly brief response.

_No. Sorry._

Peter’s gut told him something was off, and he’d called Neal, only to have it ring through to voicemail. He’d left a message, saying that he hoped Neal was okay and that he’d see him on Monday for lunch.

Except Neal hadn’t been at Starbucks. Sara said he’d taken a sick day, and the alarms going off in Peter’s head reached an almost deafening level. He’d considered making a quick trip to June’s mansion, but he knew he’d never make it back in time for the meeting with El, so he’d decided to leave work right after the meeting instead.

“Peter? Are you with me?”

He jumped at the sound of El’s voice and gave her a sheepish half-smile. “Sorry, what was that?”

“I said I think that takes care of all of it.” She pushed the paperwork across the table to him, and he started sorting her copies into a pile.

“Good, good.” He looked down at the papers, and when he glanced back up, she was eyeing him closely. “I, uh, I’m sorry I spaced out on you. Really. And thank you again for choosing us. I…” He trailed off, realizing that he had no idea what he even wanted to say. He’d grown up wanting to be a cop, not a businessman. Though he had plenty of confidence, there were still times when he wasn’t comfortable with the formalities – especially when his mind was elsewhere to begin with. 

Elizabeth, on the other hand, not only seemed to have it under control but could tell he didn’t. “Just give it some time, Peter. You’re doing fine.” When he just blinked at her, she smiled and reached across to give his hand a quick squeeze. “Running a business is hard enough, but when it’s not what you set out to do with your life, it can be a little overwhelming. You’re doing great things here, and it seems like you have a loyal team backing you up. That already puts you way ahead of the game.”

Peter could feel the blush starting up the back of his neck, but he managed a small smile. “Thanks, El. I appreciate that.”

She gave him a sweet smile in return. “I mean it. Stay confident, keep your team as happy as your clients, and you’ll be golden.” Her eyebrows raised knowingly. “Now I’m going to get out of your hair so you can take care of whatever’s _really_ on your mind.”

This time, the blush went all the way to his cheeks. “I’m really sorry. I didn’t intend to be so obvious.”

“You’ve been fine, other than zoning out there. I’ve just been doing this for so long that I’ve gotten really good at reading people. Comes in handy for defusing potential bridezilla situations.” She winked at him, and Peter’s grin widened in spite of his embarrassment. “If it’s Neal, stop over and see him. It’s not far away, and I’ve found that when you look into the eyes of someone you care about, anything that was wrong just sort of fades away, and you’re left with what’s right.”

Peter was overwhelmed by the statement, so simple yet so profound, and he was struck again by how much he enjoyed El’s company. He’d made it a point to remain professional with all of his other clients, but his relationship with El had already started to skirt the lines of friendship, and he wondered if she felt the same way.

“Yeah,” he finally replied. “I think I’ll do that.”

“Good.” El put the paperwork in her bag, and when she stood, Peter walked around to meet her. “You know, I hope I’m not way out of line here, but if you ever need to talk, you have my number.” She held out her hand, and Peter shook it.

“Not at all, and thanks.” 

“Anytime. I hope it goes well.” 

Peter nodded in agreement and walked her to the door, where they exchanged goodbyes. After that, it was only a matter of checking in with Diana and his administrative assistant, and then he was on his way to the Ellington Mansion. Before leaving, he removed his tie, then untucked and unbuttoned his dress shirt. The last thing he needed to do was show up to visit Neal looking like an authority figure.

June’s housekeeper didn’t recognize him, but when he told her he was there for Neal and that June or Mozzie would vouch for him, he was at least allowed to stand in the entryway while she went to get Mozzie.

“Where have you been?” Mozzie looked him up and down indignantly and crossed his arms over his chest.

“What do you mean, where have I been? I was here Saturday, and Neal didn’t want to see me yesterday. He hasn’t been answering my texts today and didn’t return my call, so I left work early to come here and see what’s going on. Satisfied?”

Mozzie gave him a skeptical head tilt. “He didn’t want to see you yesterday? Did you even _ask_ him?”

“Of course. I asked how he was doing and if he wanted to do anything. He said he was fine and that he didn’t.” Peter’s hands went to his hips of their own accord. “Would you like to see the texts?”

“No, I would not, because I already know your problem. You’re not asking him the right questions.”

“What?” Peter forced himself to take a few deep breaths. “Well, I’m not a psychic, and if Neal’s not willing to speak to me outside of two-word text messages – for reasons I haven’t figured out – then I don’t really have much to go on. Care to enlighten me?”

“Well, I was clearly correct about you not being a therapist…rent-a-cop.” Peter opened his mouth to defend himself, but Mozzie abruptly changed directions. “Do you know he’s barely slept since Saturday afternoon?”

Peter’s heart sank, and all the fight went out of him, his hands dropping to his sides. “Oh god. Was – was it because of the flashback?”

“That, and the nightmares. Saturday night, yesterday, today. He doesn’t always have them every night, but they’re worse after a flashback.” Mozzie’s own voice had gone surprisingly soft, and he shook his head. “I don’t think it helped that he hasn’t seen you for two days.” When Peter’s brow furrowed, Mozzie waved a dismissive hand at him, and the condescending tone returned. “You’re not listening. I already told you, you asked him the wrong questions. You asked if he wanted to _do_ anything, not if he wanted to see you. You asked how he was doing, not if he was sleeping or if he’d had any nightmares. With as much as he cares about you – and I’m not sure _why_ that is – I don’t think he’ll lie to you, but you need to start asking relevant questions.”

In spite of the other man’s attempts to goad him, all Peter wanted to do was go see Neal. He needed to hold him and hear his voice and make sure he was okay. “I’m going up there. Now.” Without waiting for a reply, he sidestepped Mozzie and started up the stairs. Mozzie didn’t try to stop him, but he did say something surprising just as Peter got to the first landing.

“If he doesn’t answer the door, let yourself in.”

The urge to turn and make sure Mozzie wasn’t joking was hard to resist, but Peter just kept walking, not stopping until he was in front of Neal’s door. He knocked and listened for approaching footsteps or Neal’s voice, but the only sound he heard was the television.

“Neal? It’s Peter. Can I come in?”

There was no reply, and Peter felt a coldness settling deep in his stomach. He slowly opened the door only far enough to stick his head in.

“Neal?” There was still no answer, no sound other than the muffled cadence of voices from the TV. “I’m coming in.” He glanced over his shoulder but saw no sign of Mozzie or anyone else, so he slipped into the room and closed the door behind him. His eyes flitted from the bed to the sofa to the terrace, but he didn’t see Neal anywhere.

The sound he’d heard through the door was coming not from the TV, but from a laptop sitting open on the coffee table. There was a video playing on the screen, but for the time being, Peter ignored it. He needed to find Neal, and the odd stillness in the room left him dreading what might await him.

Wondering if Mozzie or June had even checked on Neal lately, Peter made his way back the hallway to the bathroom, calling the younger man’s name. There was no sign of him in the bathroom or the walk-in closet, and with the chill now spreading through his body, Peter went back out to the main room.

“Neal?” Though he tried to stay calm, his voice was louder and carried a barely-there note of panic. “Neal, please answer me.” Just as he was about to go out onto the terrace, the sound of Neal’s laughter rang out from the laptop speakers, and Peter walked over to peer down at the screen.

“ _Oh my god, Neal, don’t you dare!_ ” A young woman with long dark hair and impossibly large blue eyes grinned at the camera. “ _I’m a mess! Give me that camera._ ” Her face filled the screen, but the person behind the camera deftly dodged her, and a familiar voice streamed through the speakers.

“ _Oh, no, no, no. Not yet. And you look beautiful._ ”

Neal.

Fascinated, Peter dropped down to sit on the very edge of the sofa, staring at the screen. The camera slowly zoomed out. “ _This is my little sister, Kate, and she’s getting married today. We’re making a video of this blessed event_ –” Kate giggled, and the camera shook as Neal tried not to laugh. “– _this most time-honored of traditions so that years from now, when she has wrinkles and gray hair from chasing around her seventeen children and taking care of her fat, balding husband – I’m kidding, Bobby, I love you like a brother, man – she can look back on this video and remember the joy and happiness of this day. When she was surrounded by love…and not dirty diapers and Spam tins._ ”

“ _Wow, Neal, really? Spam tins? Such a sentimentalist. Give me the camera._ ” Neal started laughing, a sound that warmed Peter’s heart, and Kate managed to wrestle the camera from him. After a brief blur, the camera focused on the gorgeous face of the man Peter loved, looking young and happy and full of life. “ _And this is my brother, Neal. My older brother, which I’ll never let him forget, no matter how young he looks. He’s just jealous that I found the man of my dreams before he did, but we’ll find him one someday. Preferably not like that idiot, Matthew._ ”

“ _Hey, what was wrong with Matthew?_ ” Neal slid his hands into the pockets of his slacks and rocked back on his heels, smirking at the camera like he already knew what was coming – and probably agreed with it.

“ _Matthew was a douche._ ” When Neal shook his head and chuckled, Kate laughed behind the camera. “ _What? He was! He was a little punk, he couldn’t hold down a job, and I still think he cheated on you. He cheated at everything else. Not what you need at all._ ”

“ _Oh, so what do you think I need?_ ” He stared into the camera, his mouth slowly working up into a mischievous grin.

“ _You need a real man – a tall, dark, and handsome. And it should be someone athletic, because we both know you go for the big arms and chest. But not a musclehead. Someone smart, like you._ ”

As Peter continued to watch, mesmerized by this different version of Neal and the knowledge that he had a sister, the young man cracked up and shook his head. “ _And where exactly do I find this perfect specimen?_ ” He started walking slowly toward the camera, but Kate backed away, matching him step for step.

“ _Hey, you stay over there! I don’t know, maybe something like a cop, but smarter than the ones that hand out tickets. What about, like, a detective or an FBI agent or something? What?_ ”

Peter gasped, barely noticing that the Neal on the screen was now laughing at his little sister. He stood and backed away from the table, glancing around the apartment as if he was afraid of getting caught watching the video. Before he even had a chance to catch his breath, a voice cut through the air, making his heart race again.

“She’s dead, you know.”

Peter’s eyes darted to the side door to the terrace, and he was stunned to see that it was open, if just barely. He’d checked the main terrace doors when he’d walked through earlier and found them closed, but he hadn’t thought to check the one across from Neal’s bed.

“It wasn’t my fault. It wasn’t.”

Opening the door slowly, Peter stepped out onto the terrace – and finally caught sight of Neal. The younger man was sitting on the floor just outside the doorway, a full bottle of Stoli between his outstretched legs. He was staring straight ahead, eyes never moving even as Peter approached.

“Neal? Is it okay that I’m here?” Peter knelt down beside him, wanting badly to offer some sort of comforting touch but not knowing if it was even welcome. If _he_ was even welcome. 

“Of course. I like it when you’re here.” Neal continued to stare, and now that he was closer, Peter could see that he hadn’t been crying and didn’t look drunk. He simply looked exhausted…and lost. Peter glanced down at the vodka bottle, and Neal must have noticed. “I didn’t drink any. I wanted to, but I remembered what you said. On Saturday.”

“Good. That – that’s good.” Peter spoke gently, not yet knowing exactly where Neal’s head was at or what was safe to say. He desperately wanted to help Neal, and he ached with the need to do something. He’d always helped those he loved most without hesitation, even when they were at their lowest. 

When he was nine and his grandmother had a stroke, Peter was the only one who visited her on a regular basis. His cousins were too scared to go see her – hell, even his aunt and uncle and his own parents seemed unnerved by her inability to express or take care of herself. She couldn’t speak but made a few sounds, and she constantly pushed at her lower lip with her tongue in a way that was off-putting. Peter spent much of that summer riding his bike down to the nursing home and sitting with her, wiping her chin and reading to her from the _Times_ and playing memory games with his Uno cards.

It was during those games, when Gram pointed to one card and then another with a palsied finger that Peter realized she was still in there somewhere. She kept up with him, match for match, every day. And if she was aware of where both of the green 5 cards were or the fact that she’d seen a red 7 in the upper left corner of the layout, then she was aware that Peter was the only one who came to spend time with her every day. _His_ Gram, the one who let him help her cook her famed pot roast and taught him the difference between a real morel and a false one, was still in there somewhere.

That realization had been one of the defining moments of Peter’s life, and now, over three decades later, he knew that Neal was in there somewhere. _His_ Neal – the Neal he loved – needed his help.

“Neal. What can I do?”

“Sit with me.” Though he still couldn’t meet Peter’s eyes, Neal’s gaze at least shifted in his general direction. “And relax, Peter. I’m not suicidal, or homicidal, or any other –cidal. Sometimes I just get a little…detached, I guess. God, I’m so tired. I don’t even know if I’m making any sense. But I – I really need for you to know what’s going on.” He paused for a moment, then gestured to the small sofa beside him, wrought iron and covered in thick cushions. “Maybe up here. Easier on your leg.”

Giving him a cautious nod, Peter sat on the sofa. Neal stood and shook himself, then placed the bottle on the small table in front of Peter and sat down beside him, close but not touching. He was wearing cotton pajama pants and a well-worn navy t-shirt, his feet were bare, and though it looked like he’d showered at some point, he hadn’t shaved since Peter had seen him last.

“That guy in the video,” Neal said softly, still not looking at Peter. “I want him back – for myself, and for you and June and Moz. I can’t do this anymore.” He sighed and rubbed his palms on his thighs. “I called Dr. Parker this morning. I have an appointment for Wednesday.”

Peter closed his eyes briefly, relief coursing through him. He made a mental note to thank Ellen for getting Neal in so soon and tried to keep his voice steady when he spoke. “I’m glad to hear that.”

“Yeah.” Neal took a few deep breaths and shifted over to lean against him. “I, um…have a big favor to ask, though.”

“Sure. What do you need?” Peter laid a gentle hand on Neal’s knee, and the younger man visibly started to relax, his body sagging against Peter’s.

“Sleep.” His voice was barely above a whisper. “Not yet. We need to talk first. But do you think, maybe…” He trailed off and rubbed at his pants with his thumb, a self-conscious blush working its way up into his cheeks.

“Neal.” Peter wrapped his fingers around Neal’s, stilling his hand. “You never have to worry about asking me for something you need.” He thumped their hands on Neal’s leg. “God knows I’d probably do just about anything for you anyway.”

Neal’s sharp intake of breath was hard to miss. He looked away and shook his head, and Peter almost gave in and let him off the hook. He couldn’t bring himself to do it, though. He wanted Neal to feel comfortable – and safe – letting him know if there was something he needed.

“Would you stay with me for a couple of nights, either here or at your place?” The question came out in a rush, and Peter felt Neal’s body tense beside him.

“Sure, of course,” Peter answered immediately. “If you’re comfortable with this, it should probably be my place, though.” He loosened his fingers just long enough to gesture at his leg before tightening them around Neal’s again. “Rain in the forecast, human barometer, bum leg, so many stairs.”

At that, all of the tension went out of Neal, and he actually managed to chuckle. “Makes sense. And thanks, Peter. Thank you.” His eyes finally came up to meet Peter’s, a little bit of hope in a vast blue sea of weariness. 

Peter couldn’t help but lean in and give him a quick kiss. “Like I’d say no.”

Neal managed a small smile, watching Peter for a moment before slowly pulling his hand back and standing. “Wait here.” Without waiting for a response, he disappeared through the door, only to return a moment later with two bottles of water and a single shot glass. He handed one of the bottles to Peter, put the shot glass on the table, and opened his own bottle of water, taking a long drink before sitting back down.

As Peter took a drink of his own water, Neal leaned forward, elbows on his knees. He ran his damp hands through his hair and took a few deep breaths.

“If you need some of that instead, help yourself,” he said softly, gesturing at the vodka bottle. Though Peter didn’t quite understand the offer, he simply nodded and put his water bottle on the table in front of him. When his gaze returned to Neal, the other man was giving him a contemplative look over his shoulder.

“What?”

“You were a detective,” Neal said softly as he sat back. “How much have you figured out?”

Peter knew a deflection when he heard one, and he sighed and shook his head. “Neal, this is your story to tell. If you’re not ready –”

“I’m ready. I – I am.” His eyes slid away from Peter’s, and he rubbed at his chest with his thumb. “It’s just not an easy one to tell. I’m not even sure where to start.” 

Peter rested a hand on Neal’s leg once again. “Tell me as much as you feel comfortable telling me. As for where to start, start with the first words you said to me earlier.”

Neal’s head tilted as he thought back, and when he realized what Peter meant, he gave a slow nod. He looked straight ahead, across the large terrace, and ran his tongue over his lips.

“Okay. Um, yeah.” He took another moment to gather his thoughts, then cleared his throat. “It really wasn’t my fault. That’s what everyone told me. Most of the time – _most_ of the time, I believe that.” He sighed and put his hand on top of Peter’s on his leg.

“Kate was my little sister. I loved her more than just about anyone. Growing up, it wasn’t always…well, let’s just say that most of the time, we had each other and not much else. She didn’t care that I was gay, and she taught me how to cook, and she encouraged me when I started my business.” Neal canted his head in Peter’s direction, though he still didn’t look at him. “Bet you didn’t guess that I was a jeweler.”

Stunned, Peter shook his head and leaned forward, trying to look into his eyes. Neal nodded and tilted his head back to squint up at the sky. “Pretty successful, too, once I found my place. I was living the good life. And so was Kate by then. She’d found her other half – Bobby Moreau. He was a great guy, treated her like she deserved to be treated. They got married and wanted to start a family right away.”

Peter was so engrossed in the story that it took him a moment to realize Neal had stopped speaking. He turned his hand under Neal’s, threading their fingers together. 

Neal closed his eyes. “I – I can’t look at you or…not yet. I need to get this out.”

“Sure,” Peter said softly. “I understand.” He ran his thumb over Neal’s, and a ghost of a smile flickered across the younger man’s face before disappearing again.

“It all started to go to hell around the same time for both of us. Kate was having a really hard time getting pregnant, and I was the one who was there for her most of the time. Bobby was really supportive, but he was a network engineer, so he was away a lot. 

“And while that was going on, I started having some issues with a business associate. I can’t…I’m not comfortable getting into that right now. But these were the kind of problems you really don’t want or expect to have to deal with at work, and I wasn’t sure how to handle it. I tried…” He trailed off and stared hard at the bottle of vodka. 

“You need some of that?” Peter asked in a near-whisper.

Neal’s reply was immediate. “No. Just – just making sure it’s still there.” He shuddered and leaned into Peter, his fingers tightening around the other man’s.

“I tried to deal with it on my own for a couple of months, but it got to the point where I had to tell someone. I mean, I was successful and had a great apartment and plenty of people I thought were my friends. And I felt like I was dying inside. So I told Kate.

“She was great about the whole thing, Peter, seriously. She’d finally gotten pregnant by then, but she still found the time to be there if I needed her. She listened, and she let me crash at her place when I didn’t want to be alone.” Neal’s voice faltered on the last word, and as he paused to take a couple of deep breaths, Peter was struck by what he’d said. Against his better judgment, he had done that very thing – left Neal alone – for nearly two days. His chest started to ache, and this time it was his own eyes that drifted to the bottle on the table.

“The day it happened, she – she just wanted to surprise Bobby.” Neal’s voice, low and laced with heartache, brought Peter out of his thoughts. The younger man was looking down at his feet, his throat working. He pulled his hand away from Peter’s, and after taking a few quick sips of water, he leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “He was in Trenton for two weeks. She begged me to drive her there the day after her twenty-week check-up. Bobby wanted a boy, and she wanted to tell him that’s what they were having as soon as she found out.” Neal scrubbed both hands over his face, then rested his forehead in them.

“It was hot that day – really hot, and she was singing. I’ll never forget that. That damn Hanson song. She hated it when I called it that.” He sat up straight, shaking his head slowly back and forth. When he continued, there was a note of disbelief in his voice, as if he still couldn’t quite comprehend what had happened.

“Something hit the windshield. And – and this truck…I was up against the barriers…I didn’t have anywhere to go.” Neal started to shiver, and Peter’s hand moved to his back, stroking a soothing rhythm over the tense muscles. “Someone hit us from behind, and then someone else…the car flipped over, and I blacked out.” His hands rubbed at his thighs over and over, and his breathing quickened.

“Neal,” Peter said softly, “maybe you should stop for –”

“When – when I woke up,” Neal interrupted, pushing on in spite of the fact that his whole body was trembling and everything was coming out in disjointed bursts, “my chest and shoulder hurt, and I was on my side. The _car_ was on its side. Kate – I – she was above me. And her eyes. And the blood. And someone was telling me to stay still. I tried, Peter. I tried to tell them – tell them to – to save her. To save Kate and the baby. And they thought I was…there was blood all over me. But it wasn’t mine. It was…”

“Neal, stop.” Peter reached for both his hands, halting their frantic movements.

“They got me out –”

“– Neal –”

“– and I begged them to help her –”

“– you don’t have to –”

“– but they couldn’t get her out, and the car – the car –”

“– Neal, please –”

“– just…started _burning_. It just…and she was –”

“– Neal, stop. Please.” Peter turned and pulled Neal, who was now shaking uncontrollably, into his arms.

“I couldn’t breathe,” Neal said, his voice muffled by Peter’s shirt. “They took – they took me away from her…”

“Shh, that’s enough.” He stroked Neal’s back as the younger man struggled for breath against his shoulder. “C’mon, Neal. Just take it easy.”

“Can’t.” The gasping got more frantic, and Neal’s fingers twisted in Peter’s sleeves. “I c-can’t breathe. Peter –” He stood suddenly, eyes wide, and nearly fell over the table in his attempt to get to a more open area. Peter followed but didn’t want to be smothering, so he simply put a steadying hand on Neal’s back as the other man bent over, hands on his knees, and struggled for air.

“You can. You can breathe.” Peter bent down so his face was next to Neal’s. “You’re here, you’re safe,” he murmured. “Come on, we can do this. Just like last time.”

Neal nodded but was still too winded to respond. He was at least making an attempt to start getting his breathing back under control, and he clumsily slung an arm around Peter’s lower back, propping himself up on the older man. The position was awkward, but Peter didn’t care. Anything that would help Neal sounded perfect right about then.

“That’s it,” Peter said as Neal slowly continued to pull himself back together. “You’re doing fine. Deep breaths in and out, slow and easy. Breathe with me.”

This time, it didn’t take nearly as long for Neal to come back to himself, and after a few more minutes, Peter was able to lead him back to the sofa. Neal drank some of his water, and Peter did the same, watching the other man closely as he did. To his great relief, Neal looked up at him and managed a weak smile as he put his bottle back on the table with a hand that was still trembling.

“Thanks, Peter. Again.” The smile grew just a little, and Peter relaxed enough to mirror it with one of his own. “When I decided it was time to tell you what happened, I swore to myself that I wouldn’t cry or throw up this time.” He chuckled and shook his head.

“Well, you didn’t do either of those,” Peter replied with a shrug.

“No, but I forgot about the hyperventilating. I’ll add that to the list.”

“It’s okay, you know.” When Neal’s brow furrowed, Peter gave him a nod. “Whatever you need to do to work through it and get it out of your system, short of hurting yourself or someone else, is fair game. Better than keeping it inside.” He reached up to stroke Neal’s cheek with his thumb, and Neal leaned into his touch, peace mixing with the weariness in his eyes.

“I’d been hoping to tell you more, though. More of the details, and more of what happened afterward, how I ended up here with June, but…” He trailed off and glanced away. “I don’t know how much more I can do right now.”

“You don’t have to,” Peter replied, still caressing Neal’s stubble-covered face. “Tell you what. Why don’t you get some sleep and a shower, and then we’ll pack a bag and head over to my place, maybe pick up something to eat on the way. How does that sound?”

Neal reached up and took Peter’s hand, turning his head and pressing a light kiss into his palm. “That sounds perfect. Except for the part where I fall asleep while you’re here again.”

“If I’m giving you the impression that it bothers me, let me try to change that.” Peter leaned in and kissed him, long but gentle, reminding himself that Neal was still exhausted. When he finally pulled away, he leaned his forehead against Neal’s. “Next time, will you let me know when you’re having trouble?”

“If you do that again, I will.”

Peter smiled, then brought him in for another kiss. They let it go on longer this time, and Peter couldn’t help moaning a little as Neal’s tongue slipped against his. Neal responded by pushing him back on the sofa and sliding a hand up under Peter’s undershirt, cool fingers tracing electric paths over his heated skin. It took a great deal of willpower for Peter to pull away, but the fact that Neal desperately needed sleep was still at the front of his mind.

“Hey,” he murmured against Neal’s lips. “Save it for my place. You should sleep first.”

Neal let out a frustrated groan, but there was a note of concession to it that let Peter know he’d won. “Fine,” he said as he leaned back and let Peter sit up, “but not for more than two hours. Anything longer, and I’ll feel worse when I wake up.”

“Yeah, I was a cop. I know all about power naps. I’ll wake you.”

Neal nodded and opened his mouth as if to say something, then just smiled and grabbed his water bottle and the vodka and shot glass from the table. “Let’s get it over with then.”

Peter followed him back into the apartment but stopped by the bed, then toed off his shoes and removed his dress shirt while Neal was putting things away. When the younger man returned, he looked Peter up and down and grinned.

“You didn't have to stop there, you know. I'm perfectly comfortable with you taking it all off.”

Peter returned the smile and wrapped his arms loosely around Neal's waist. “Oh, I know, but if I do that, you won't get any sleep.”

“Mmm.” Neal leaned up to kiss him. “I think I'm getting my second wind.” Though he did sound at least a little convincing, he still couldn't hide the exhaustion that lurked in his eyes – or the dark circles under them.

“Come on,” Peter coaxed, walking them over to the bed. “I'll lay down with you until you fall asleep if that'll help.”

The flirtiness faded from Neal’s face, replaced by a weary innocence that was almost startling. “It would, yeah.” He backed out of Peter’s arms and got into bed without protest, slipping under the sheet and watching as Peter climbed in beside him. Peter took a moment to set the alarm on his phone just in case he himself fell asleep, then brushed Neal’s hair back from his temple and planted a soft kiss there.

Neal smiled at the gesture before seeming to get lost in his thoughts for a moment. “Peter?”

“Hmm?”

“What happened with Kate made me realize a few things.” His voice was soft, wistful, and his blue eyes stared into Peter’s with an intensity that touched something deep inside the older man’s soul. “One of those things was the obvious one, that life’s too short, and that we shouldn’t pass up an opportunity to tell people how much they mean to us.” He ran his index finger down Peter’s arm. “Peter, I – I love you. I’ve never been as in love with anyone as I am with you. I need you to know that.” 

As Peter swallowed hard, his chest aching with the joy that Neal’s confession brought, the younger man nervously rambled on. “I’d been worrying that it was too soon, or that you’d think I was moving too fast, or that it was the wrong –”

Peter held a finger to Neal’s lips and tried to smile without tearing up. Though he knew the other man would hear the emotion in his voice, he spoke anyway. “I love you, too.” He thought he should say more, but he couldn’t get the words out past the burning in his throat.

It didn’t seem to matter, though, as Neal’s hands were on Peter’s face, and Neal’s lips were pressed to his. He closed his eyes and let himself forget for a moment that Neal still hadn’t gone to sleep. Neal’s tongue swept across Peter’s lips, and he parted them with a choked gasp, knowing full well that his mouth was salty with tears, but that it didn’t matter.

It didn’t matter that he was getting emotional, or that Neal had barely slept in two days. It didn’t matter that they’d only been dating a short time. It didn’t matter that he’d never work for the NYPD again or that Neal worked at Starbucks.

They were in love, and in that moment, nothing else mattered.

By the time they finally parted, Peter had pulled himself back together and was able to return Neal’s bright smile with one of his own. 

“So now what?” Neal asked softly, and Peter was struck by how unabashedly happy he looked. 

“Now you go to sleep.” Peter coaxed Neal down the rest of the way, then draped an arm over his waist and pulled him close.

“Yeah,” Neal said around a stifled yawn. “It’ll be easier now.”

“What will? Going to sleep?”

“Mmm-hmm.” He tucked himself into Peter’s side and closed his eyes, letting out a soul-deep sigh. “Knowing that I’m loved.”

The comment hit Peter hard, and he again found himself struggling just to speak. “Yes, you are,” he whispered. “I promise you that.”

Neither of them spoke again, and Neal fell asleep almost immediately. Though he hadn’t thought he was particularly tired, and had planned to just keep Neal company, Peter’s body had other ideas, and he drifted off soon after.

\-------------

Peter had barely gotten the door to his apartment locked when Neal dropped his overnight bag, took the bags of food from him and put them on the table beside the door, then backed him up against the wall. Before Peter could even respond, Neal’s mouth was on his, hips pinning Peter in place. Peter was bigger and stronger and could have easily escaped, but as Neal’s eager tongue pushed into his mouth, getting away was the last thing on his mind. Instead, his slid his hands down Neal’s sides and around to his ass, holding the younger man there as he pushed back. 

Neal kissed him until they were both nearly breathless, and then moved to Peter’s jaw, trailing a line of kisses up to his ear. “I want you so much,” he whispered, his breath tickling Peter’s ear, sending a shiver through his body. Peter couldn’t help letting out a low moan, and he went from overwhelmed to fully aroused so fast his head spun. Neal noticed immediately and slid a hand between them to palm Peter through his pants. 

It had been over four years since anyone had touched Peter sexually, and his brain got left behind as his body took over. As he pulled Neal even closer, the younger man slipped his hand from between them so that Peter’s erection was nudging against his own. Their lips met again, and Neal made a needy sound in the back of his throat that left Peter wanting to fuck him right then and there, dinner and their collective emotional baggage be damned.

It wasn’t until Neal pulled back enough to start fumbling with his belt buckle that Peter finally came back to himself. He put his hands over Neal’s and looked into the other man’s eyes, dark with lust.

“Neal,” he gasped, “I – it – it’s been a while. I…” He trailed off, his brain still not quite there yet.

Though he was a little breathless himself, Neal flashed him a grin. “It’s okay. We’re not going for a marathon here. Just taking care of the quick-and-awkward before we eat.”

Peter managed to chuckle at the reference to their first date, but his legs were already shaking, and he knew he’d never be able to stay on his feet through whatever Neal had in mind. “Sofa,” he murmured, already moving them in that direction. By the time they got there, Neal had Peter’s pants undone and was working on his own. He’d gotten rid of his shoes somewhere along the way – Peter had no idea where – and he slipped off his khakis and socks in a move so casually fluid that it was almost intimidating. His shirt quickly followed, and then he went back to work on Peter’s clothes.

He started with the undershirt, and when it was gone, he ran his palms down Peter’s chest to his stomach and back up. His thumbs brushed over Peter’s nipples, and the older man gasped.

“Like that, huh?” Neal gave him a seductive grin. “I figured you would. You’ve got gorgeous pecs, by the way.” His fingers moved over them, tracing the outline of Peter’s muscles. This was a side of Neal that Peter had only barely glimpsed before, gentle but confident, and it was incredibly arousing. He leaned in to kiss Neal, and as their lips met, Neal slid Peter’s pants down over his hips and squeezed him through his boxers. Peter groaned into Neal’s mouth, his knees almost buckling.

“Shit,” he breathed, his hands wrapping around Neal’s shoulders to steady himself. Neal just smiled against Peter’s lips and crowded him back against the edge of the sofa so he had no choice but to sit down. He managed to quickly slip out of his shoes before Neal coaxed him into laying down, and then he watched with stunned fascination as the younger man removed his own boxer briefs. Neal just stood there for a moment, still and aroused, a bit of uncertainty working its way in around the edges of his confidence. 

Peter reached up and trailed his fingers over Neal’s hip. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, “and you’re too far away.” 

Neal shivered at Peter’s touch, but the older man’s words seemed to reassure him, and he smiled. He motioned for Peter to lay down, and though Peter had gotten a larger sofa after his injury, knowing he’d be spending a good bit of time with his leg stretched out on it, he didn’t know if it was big enough for whatever Neal had in mind.

But then Neal reached for the waistband of Peter’s boxers, and Peter forgot about anything else outside of Neal’s fingers brushing against his heated skin, and lifting his hips, and his own momentary flash of self-consciousness before Neal’s appreciative hum dashed it away.

Neal straddled Peter’s hips, and as awkward as Peter had thought it would be, they actually made it work. One of Neal’s legs was tucked against the back of the sofa, the opposite foot was planted on the floor, and his blue eyes couldn’t stop traveling over Peter’s body. He leaned down over Peter and kissed him hard, slowly shifting his hips, his erection moving against Peter’s.

Though he definitely wasn’t lacking experience, Peter couldn’t remember ever being so turned on before. He moved under Neal, trying to get a rhythm going, and Neal’s lips again curved into a smile against his own. Neal pushed himself back up, and when he wrapped a hand around their erections and started stroking, Peter didn’t stand a chance. He held back as long as he could, but he hadn’t had anything like this in so long, and it was too much – Neal towering over him, those long fingers stroking and squeezing, a pair of half-lidded blue eyes goading him on.

Every muscle in Peter’s body tensed as he came, and he arched up against Neal with a loud grunt. It only took a few more strokes for Neal to follow, head thrown back and eyes squeezed shut, biting his lip to keep from making a sound. He looked heavenly, and Peter reached up to run his fingertips down the younger man’s arm. At the touch, Neal opened his eyes and gazed down at Peter, giving him a sly smile. 

“Peter,” he whispered so softly that Peter almost couldn’t hear him over his own panting breaths. He lifted his fingers to his mouth and, never breaking eye contact with Peter, slowly sucked them clean. Peter could only moan in response. Neal’s grin widened, and he leaned up over Peter again, kissing him, letting Peter taste him – taste _them_. 

When Neal finally pulled away, Peter just laid there under him, his whole body tingling, content to bask in the afterglow for as long as he could. He looked Neal up and down and appreciated what he saw; the younger man was definitely healthier and had started to fill out nicely in the weeks since they’d first met.

“Hey, you okay?” Neal pushed Peter’s mussed hair back from his forehead. 

Peter smiled up at him and tried to find his voice. “Yeah, I…wow.”

“Me, too.” Neal kissed him again, then leaned back to rest lightly on Peter’s thighs. There was a slight twinge from his left leg, but Peter barely noticed. “We were really good at the ‘quick’ part, but that wasn’t exactly awkward.”

“Mmm. Who needs awkward?” Peter’s grin spread across his face, and Neal chuckled at him.

“Is this the way you always look after sex? Because it’s adorable.” 

Peter just shrugged and let out a contented hum, which seemed to delight Neal even more. He stared down at Peter for a long moment, a deep love evident in his eyes, before finally shaking his head.

“I should get us cleaned up so we can eat.” When Peter nodded, Neal pushed himself carefully off the sofa and padded down the hall to the bathroom in the master bedroom. He returned a moment later with a wet washcloth and a hand towel, perching on the edge of the sofa and gently cleaning Peter’s body before drying him with the towel. “You’re awfully quiet.”

“Just savoring this,” Peter admitted. “It’s been years since anyone, you know…touched me like that.” It felt awkward to say those words out loud, but then Neal gave him a fond smile that instantly put him at ease.

“I’m glad it was me.”

“So am I.”

Neal leaned down and kissed him, then took the cloth and towel back to the bathroom. When he returned, he found his boxer briefs and slipped into them, then dug in his overnight bag by the door and came up with a pair of lounge shorts. He donned them and his sleeveless undershirt before walking back over to the sofa and trailing his fingers along Peter’s chest.

“You planning on getting up anytime soon?”

“Maybe.” Peter winked at him before pushing himself up, which seemed to satisfy Neal. While the younger man went to get their food ready, Peter pulled up his boxers and pants and made a quick trip to the bedroom. It was warm enough for the shorts he usually wore around the apartment, but because Neal was there, he opted for a pair of lightweight pajama pants instead. He knew Neal hadn’t seen much of the scarring earlier, but though he wasn’t particularly self-conscious about it, he just couldn’t bring himself to so casually show off something Neal might not be ready to deal with.

By the time he returned, stopping in the living room long enough to find and put on his t-shirt, Neal had finished unpacking the food. They’d gotten soup and sandwiches, and Neal looked perfectly at home in Peter’s kitchen, standing at the counter and pouring the soup into a bowl to warm it up. Peter couldn’t help just watching him for a moment, and it made his heart swell to realize that the younger man looked completely unguarded and carefree. 

Shaking himself out of his reverie, Peter walked up behind Neal and wrapped his arms around his waist. Neal sighed and leaned back into him, and Peter rested his chin on the other man’s shoulder.

“Almost ready,” Neal said, stretching just far enough to start the microwave. “You don’t mind that I’m doing this, do you?”

“Of course not.” Peter was a little confused by the question but was able to keep it out of his voice. “I told you on the way over that you should make yourself at home.” He nuzzled Neal’s neck. “Besides, I like seeing you in my kitchen. And on my sofa. And I’m looking forward to seeing you in my bed.”

“Mmm. I like the sound of that.” Neal turned in Peter’s arms and kissed him. It was casual, not leading to anything more, and they continued to make out until the microwave beeped. 

The meal, from a deli that Neal suggested, was delicious. As they ate, Peter stole a few lingering glances at the man across the table from him. Now that he was wearing just an undershirt, Peter could see what Neal had meant when he’d said he had scars, too. There was a patch of discolored skin on the outside of his left bicep; Peter thought it had probably once been road rash. A thin, faint scar on his shoulder suggested that he’d had surgery to fix a broken collarbone. 

“Most of them are on the inside,” Neal said softly, startling Peter. The older man opened his mouth to apologize, but Neal didn’t seem to be bothered by the scrutiny. He waved off the apology with a shy smile before going back to his food, which he’d been devouring. As he turned his attention back to his own sandwich, it occurred to Peter that if Neal hadn’t been sleeping for the past two days, he probably hadn’t eaten much either. It was good to see him attacking the food with such enthusiasm, and Peter couldn’t help smiling.

After finishing their meal, they moved back to the sofa, this time to relax and digest. They sat side by side at first, but Peter knew Neal was still tired, and thankfully, it didn’t take much to convince the younger man that it was okay to lay down and get comfortable. He stretched out and rested his head on Peter’s right thigh. Neither of them spoke as several minutes passed, but right around the time Peter started to wonder if Neal had drifted off, the younger man finally broke the silence.

“They’re not very bad, you know. Your scars.”

The comment caught Peter off-guard, but he recovered quickly and huffed out a laugh. “You haven’t seen them yet.”

“I saw some of them.” One of Neal’s hands moved to Peter’s left thigh, his fingers drifting until they found what was likely the only scar he had laid eyes on earlier. He traced it through the thin cotton with his fingertip, and Peter struggled to suppress a shiver.

“You saw that one.” Peter’s hand covered Neal’s on his leg. “And only part of it. My boxers never made it past my thighs.”

Neal looked up over his shoulder at Peter and grinned. “You didn’t seem to have an issue with that at the time.”

“Still don’t,” Peter replied as he returned the smile. “You saw what you needed to see. That’s what’s important.”

“Oh, I saw the important part alright.” Neal gave Peter’s thigh a squeeze. “I was kind of surprised when you came out in pants, though. Could’ve sworn I saw a pair of shorts on the bed when I went back to the bathroom.”

Peter shifted, a little uncomfortable with the direction the conversation was taking. “I’m supposed to be keeping you from having nightmares, not giving you more,” he mumbled.

Neal pushed himself up and gave Peter a puzzled look. “Wait, you don’t really think I’m that superficial, do you? Peter, I think I can –”

A knock at the door cut Neal off, and he jumped, eyes darting between Peter and the door.

“No,” Peter said as he stood, “I don’t think you’re superficial at all. You have your issues, I have mine, and this is one of them.” He gestured to the door. “I need to see who’s…Neal? What’s wrong?”

Neal was staring at the door, and the color had drained from his face. “That – that’s not Sara, is it?” he asked in a strained whisper.

“I have no idea. I’m not expecting her.” There was another knock, and Peter called out in the direction of the door. “Be right there!” He turned his attention back to Neal. “What’s going on?”

“Maybe I should go wait in the bedroom.” Neal stood and ran a hand through his hair, taking a few tentative steps toward the hallway.

“You don’t want Sara to know you’re here?”

“No.” Neal held out a hand in Peter’s direction but took another step backward. “Peter, I need that job. I can’t – she – I…” He trailed off and looked helplessly at the door.

“Neal, Sara can’t fire you for spending a few nights here, and she wouldn’t do that anyway. She’s fine with our relationship. We’ll discuss it later. Right now, I’m going to see who’s at the door.”

“Peter –”

“Relax. If it’s Sara, I’ll handle whatever comes up. If not, you don’t have anything to worry about.”

Neal stared at Peter for a few seconds, uncertainty in his eyes, chest rising and falling rapidly, before finally giving him a reluctant nod. Relieved, Peter hurried to answer the door, only to find Diana waiting on the other side. “Oh, thank god,” he breathed, and Diana gave him a curious look. “Long story. Come on in.” He stepped out of the way to let her in, then closed the door behind her.

“Well, if I would’ve known you wanted to see me that badly, I would’ve come over sooner,” she teased, giving him a nudge. It wasn’t until then that she noticed Neal, who had returned to the sofa and was giving her a tentative smile. “Oh. Hi.” She turned to Peter, eyes wide. “Wait, I didn’t – is that what took you – no, nevermind, I don’t want to know.”

Peter realized immediately what she was getting at, and he shook his head, managing to keep most of the blush from creeping up his neck. “No, no, it wasn’t – it’s an even longer story, but we weren’t – you didn’t interrupt anything.”

“Okay.” She glanced over at Neal again, then raised an eyebrow at Peter. “In that case,” she murmured, “I’m sorry, and I hope your luck changes.” With a smirk, she turned back to Neal. “It’s Neal, right? You’re looking a lot more casual than the last time I saw you.”

“Thanks, I think.” Neal’s smile grew, hints of confidence around the edges. “So are you, by the way.”

Diana looked down at herself; she was wearing a sleeveless black and navy top with sleek gray slacks, definitely not work attire. “Yeah. Date night.”

“Really?” Peter knew that the breakup of Diana’s last relationship, one that had lasted for nearly two years, had hit her hard. She hadn’t dated for several months, seeming to prefer the company of Peter or Clinton Jones more often than not, so the news that she was going on a date was a surprise to Peter. “That’s great, Di. Anyone I know?”

“No, we actually met last week at the hospital when I took Logan in to get his ankle looked at.” Peter nodded knowingly; one of his best employees had twisted his ankle badly but still managed to tough it out until the event was over before giving in and letting Diana take him to the hospital. It had turned out to be a bad sprain, and Logan would be on light duty until cleared by his doctor, but apparently something good had come from the trip. “She’s an ER doctor,” Diana added with a grin. “Her name is Christie.”

“A doctor – that’s great!” Peter squeezed her shoulder and returned the grin. “So, did you stop by for some advice?” He glanced over at Neal and waggled his eyebrows, and the younger man offered them both a dazzling smile.

“Yeah, don’t flatter yourselves.” She reached into her shoulder bag and pulled out a leather case which she then handed to Peter. “Just wanted to drop this off.”

The smile slipped from Peter’s face as he took the case from her. “You know, someday I’m going to convince you to just keep the damn thing.”

“Ah, you know I’ll never do that, boss.” She almost managed to hide the traces of sadness at the edges of her grin. Peter turned away, unzipping the case and removing the small pistol from it. The Smith & Wesson .380 had been his backup and personal weapon, and it was the only gun he’d kept after the shootings.

He knew Diana always cleared and secured any weapon she borrowed, but he still went through the motions, removing the empty magazine and pulling back the slide to check the barrel. Satisfied, he started putting everything back together. As he did, he glanced up at Neal and was startled to see that the other man was watching his every move with wide eyes and a somewhat unnerved expression. Peter raised his eyebrows, a silent question, but Neal was too focused on the gun to notice.

“Neal? What?”

Neal’s eyes darted up to meet his, and though he still looked flustered, he was able to manage a shrug and a hesitant smile. “Sorry. Not really a gun guy.”

“Neither am I. Not anymore.” Peter glanced at Diana, who was still watching him with that wistful smile.

“You were, though.” She turned her attention to Neal. “They called him Hawkeye at the firing range. I’m not sure that I ever saw him miss. They kept trying to talk him into leaving the department and becoming a training instructor.”

“Maybe I should’ve taken them up on that,” Peter said softly.

“They still ask about you. You’re missed around the place.” 

“Yeah. I should stop in sometime.” He glanced down at the leather case in his hands before fixing Diana with an embarrassed smirk. “Kind of hard to show my face after what happened last time.” When Diana’s eyes flitted to Neal, Peter nodded. “I told him. Well, the basics anyway.”

“Did you tell him it was my fault?” Before Peter had a chance to answer, Diana turned to Neal again. “I shouldn’t have let him come with me. He wasn’t cleared for duty, and he wasn’t even supposed to be there.”

“I talked you into letting me go along –”

“And I should have left your ass at home.” 

Peter hummed in agreement and was going to continue the banter, but a sudden memory stopped him in his tracks.

_“Hawk? What’s wrong with him?”_

_“Somebody call an ambulance. Oh, god…”_

_The voices all merged into a strange cacophony, nearly drowned out by the sound of the blood rushing in his ears. He was on his back on the concrete floor, eyes wide open, but only seeing blurry pinpricks of color surrounded by an inky blackness. He heard someone gasping for breath and thought it might be him._

_“Peter?”_ Diana. _She hadn’t called him ‘Boss’ – that wasn’t good at all._

_He blinked a few times, trying to bring everything back into focus, but the darkness continued to pull him toward it._

_“…can help. What’s his name?” A different voice – one he’d never heard – broke through the din._

_“Peter Burke,” Diana answered. Peter squinted and tried to focus on her, but the limited vision he had was suddenly filled with a face he only barely recognized, a man he’d seen at the range before but had only ever greeted politely in passing._

_“Peter? Hey, my name’s Clinton Jones. You’re having a panic attack, buddy. I’m gonna try to help you out…_

“Boss? Peter?” It took him a moment to realize that Diana’s voice was coming from the present, and right next to him. “Hey, what’s going on? You with us?”

Peter was startled to find himself bent over with his hands on his thighs. Both Diana and Neal were standing beside him, each of them with a hand on his shoulders. He gave his head a quick shake in an attempt to clear it and forced himself to take a few deep breaths, drawing strength from the warmth of their touches. He took a moment to center himself – he was at home with Neal and Diana, and he was safe.

“Mmm. Yeah.” Another deep breath, and he straightened, running a hand sheepishly over his face. “I’m good. Sorry. That was…strange.”

“Peter?”

Peter’s eyes came up to meet Neal’s, wide and blue and full of concern. He turned and pulled the younger man into an embrace. “I’m okay. I am. That hasn’t happened in a long time, but I’m – I know how to get through it now.” He turned his head just far enough to brush his lips over Neal’s jaw, then took refuge in the slim body pressed against his. When he felt like himself again, he finally pulled away, running his hands down Neal’s arms as he did. Diana was waiting to hand the pistol case back to him once again, and as he took it back to the bedroom, she and Neal followed.

“Hey, I was wondering what happened to those,” Diana said, gesturing to the lounge shorts on the bed.

“Oh, god, not you, too.” Peter rolled his eyes. He put the gun in the safe in his closet and double-checked to make sure it was locked before turning to face them. Neal was watching him curiously, but Diana had an all-too-knowing look on her face.

“What? You’re a creature of habit, and you always wear those from opening day until the World Series.” She nodded in Neal’s direction. “I guess that means you haven’t shown Neal yet.” Peter glanced away sheepishly, and Diana frowned at him. “It’s not like you to hide, you know. Is he coming with you to the thing? Because if so, he should probably know what he’s dealing with. What you’ve dealt with since then.”

Peter sighed and rubbed at his temple. “I haven’t asked him yet. And he’s –”

“He’s standing right here,” Neal interjected, his voice soft. He looked from Peter to Diana and back, a trace of uncertainty in his blue eyes. “Do you think you could talk _to_ him instead of _about_ him? Please.”

“Yeah, of course.” Peter swallowed, suddenly feeling like an ass, and reached out to run his fingers down Neal’s arm. “I – I’m sorry.”

Neal nodded and offered him a relieved half-smile. “What thing?”

“Huh?” 

“Am I coming with you to what thing?”

“It’s, uh, a ceremony for the third anniversary of what happened at the school. Kind of a celebration of life, and a way to honor those who didn’t make it. I was going to bring it up, but today just…didn’t seem like the right time, I guess.” He looked away, jamming his hands into the pockets of his lounge pants.

“Oh. Well, do you want me to go?”

The answer to that question hit Peter so hard that his chest tightened, and he had to breathe through his nose to keep from tearing up. In that moment, there was nothing he wanted more. “Yeah,” he said softly. “I mean, if you’re up to it, I’d really like for you to be there with me.” He stopped himself before anything else came out, but he knew Neal could read the rest in his eyes. _Please don’t let me do this without you._

“Then I’ll be there.” He seemed to consider something for a moment, his head tilting just slightly. “Do they know? I mean, will it be okay that you’re there with a guy?”

Relief coursed through Peter’s body, his shoulders slumping a little. He gave Neal a quick but grateful smile, then let it quirk up into a grin. “I’m not taking ‘a guy.’ I’m taking the man I love, and they’ll be fine with that. And yes, they know I’m gay. I was the treasurer of GOAL - that’s the Gay Officers Action League – at the time this happened, and it was mentioned in some of the news reports.”

Diana was regarding him with wide eyes. “Boss, did I just hear you use the l-word?”

“You did.” Peter wrapped an arm around Neal’s waist and pulled him in for a quick kiss.

“Okay, I think that’s my cue to leave.” She gave Peter’s shoulder a squeeze. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

“Yeah.” Peter looked over at Neal. “Don’t happen to know the number for the nearest U-Haul rental, do you?” As the two of them tried to hold back their laughter, Diana just shook her head.

“Such an ass.”

“Why, thank you…but Neal’s is a lot nicer.” At that, Neal cracked up, while Peter just grinned at Diana, waiting to see if she’d take another shot.

“No, I did _not_ hear that.” She headed for the bedroom door, still shaking her head.

“Good luck with Christie,” Neal called out to her. A muffled ‘thanks’ came from the living room, followed by the opening and closing of the door. Peter could tell by the sound that she’d locked it, and he turned to wrap both arms around Neal, relief again washing over him in waves. 

Though he’d hoped that Neal would want to accompany him to the event at the school, Peter had been dreading actually asking him. Neal was still dealing with a lot of issues of his own without having to help Peter through the myriad emotions that always went along with seeing the school and students again and sitting through the poignant ceremony.

“Hey, you okay?” Neal murmured against his neck. Peter hummed an affirmation and rested his chin on Neal’s shoulder, leaning into him. “You said it in front of Diana.”

Peter let out a soft chuckle. “Of course I did.”

“Will you say it again?”

“I’m taking the man I love.” He nuzzled Neal’s cheek. 

Neal sighed and planted a soft kiss on his jaw. “I like hearing you say that.” They stood there for a peaceful moment, just basking in the warmth of those words. One of Neal’s hands slid down over Peter’s left hip and came to rest on his thigh, just above the scars. “Will you…show me?”

For as concerned as Peter had been about showing Neal the physical aftermath of that fateful day, having him come right out and ask seemed to ease Peter’s fears. He backed away far enough to take Neal’s face in his hands, then nodded and gave him a gentle kiss.

Taking a deep breath, Peter stepped away from Neal, back toward the bed. His hands were trembling, but there was no hesitation as he slipped his lounge pants down over his hips and let them fall to the floor. Though he wanted to look away, he forced himself to watch the younger man’s face as that cerulean gaze traveled down his body. 

Peter knew exactly what the scars looked like. He’d spent so much time in those earliest days of his recovery, examining them and agonizing over them. Nearly three years later, they looked better than they did back then, but it was still usually a shock to someone who was seeing them for the first time.

There was an indentation on the outside of his thigh that was an inch deep in the center and about the diameter of a softball, covered with a combination of puckered older flesh and smooth spots where grafts had been added. A faded dark red border of raised skin ran around the edges, softened somewhat over the years because he’d been diligent about massaging it with a combination of cocoa butter and vitamin E.

His knee, though it didn’t look as bad, bore several obvious scars from the surgeries he’d had to repair the damage. He’d been extremely lucky, or so the doctors had told him, that they hadn’t needed to amputate his leg. He knew they were right, and he was grateful that he still had his leg and a good range of movement, but he hadn’t felt so lucky in those long months after the shooting, as he struggled his way through the excruciating physical therapy sessions and a laundry list of emotional issues.

Now, as he stood before Neal, trying desperately to keep the trembling from spreading through his whole body, Peter wasn’t sure what to feel. He thought he’d be self-conscious, but as he watched Neal’s face, he realized he was more curious of the other man’s reaction than anything.

If Neal was at all bothered by the scarring, he didn’t let it show in his expression. There was some innocent fascination at first, then a flash of sympathy, and finally something that Peter didn’t expect – admiration.

“You’re so brave,” Neal whispered, his shining eyes coming back up to meet Peter’s own. “God, I wish I had your courage.”

Peter let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding and managed a small smile. “I’m willing to share.”

Neal just watched him for a long moment, the corners of his mouth barely twitching upward. “May I?” he finally asked, nodding down at Peter’s leg.

There was a split second of hesitation, and a tiny, well-hidden part of Peter’s psyche wanted to refuse, wanted Peter to cover the scars and the memories that came with them, and most of all, wanted to protect Neal from all of it. But before it could take hold, the words Neal had just spoken came back to him. _You’re so brave._

“Okay.” 

Neal closed the distance between them and planted a quick kiss at the corner of Peter’s mouth, then ran his hands down over Peter’s chest and around to his hips as he slowly dropped to his knees. He brushed his fingertips lightly around the edges of the scar in Peter’s thigh, and Peter’s muscles jerked taut.

Peter almost wondered if he’d made a mistake, but as Neal’s fingers continued their gentle exploration, the apprehension gave way to something decidedly more pleasant. When any of his doctors had touched his scars – and even when Peter himself touched them – it felt strange, uncomfortable, even made his skin crawl at times. But when Neal touched them, seemingly unfazed by their appearance, the only thing Peter felt was…arousal.

It wasn’t as if the scar tissue had suddenly turned into an erogenous zone, but seeing Neal on his knees in front of him, fascinated but not revolted by these blatant reminders of the tragedy in Peter’s past, was more of a turn-on than Peter ever could have imagined. He gasped, once again needing to remind himself to breathe, and Neal tilted his head back to glance up at him before returning to what he’d been doing.

As Neal’s right hand continued to roam down Peter’s left thigh and over the scars on his knee, his left hand slid up Peter’s right leg and up under the leg of his boxers. Before Peter fully realized it was happening, those long fingers teased at his balls, and he jumped, a startled ‘oh’ escaping from between barely parted lips.

Neal looked up at him again, this time looking a little less sure of himself. “Are you – should I keep going?”

“What do you think?” Peter breathed, nodding down at the erection straining against his boxers. 

A smile flashed across Neal’s face, innocent in the middle but lusty at the edges, and in one smooth motion, he stood and slipped Peter’s boxers down over his hips. His hands, warm and steady, skated up under the thin cotton of Peter’s t-shirt and lifted it up over his head. In a startling contrast to earlier in the evening, when Peter had been so concerned about showing even his scarred leg to Neal, he now stood before the younger man, completely nude. And he wasn’t afraid.

When Neal, still in his shorts and undershirt – and himself visibly aroused – put his hands on Peter’s chest and guided him backward to the bed, Peter was quick to comply. He sat on the bed and pushed himself up toward the headboard, still not quite sure what Neal had in mind, but eager to find out.

Neal guided him to lay down with his head on the pillows, then got on his knees between Peter’s legs and grinned down at him. When Peter reached up to tug at his shirt, Neal shook his head and brought Peter’s hand back down to the pillow beside his head.

“You’ve been doing a lot for me lately. Let me do this for you.” Neal slipped off his undershirt, and again stopped Peter’s hand from reaching up to touch him. “Later.” Peter nodded and relaxed back against the pillows. Once he was settled, Neal leaned down over him and planted a line of feather-light kisses across his collarbone.

Peter’s skin came alive at the touch of those lips, at the warmth of the younger man’s breath. He gasped, and Neal’s lips curved briefly against his chest as they traveled down his breastbone and over to his left nipple. When he started laving and sucking at it, Peter couldn’t help crying out. It had been so long since he’d had another man’s mouth on his body, and for as insecure as Neal was with other things, he seemed to have no issues in this area. He soon moved on to the other nipple, giving it the same treatment and sending Peter deeper into bliss. By the time he started kissing a trail down over Peter’s stomach, his destination obvious, Peter was writhing under him.

It wasn’t long until those skilled lips wrapped around his erection, and Peter got yet another surprise. Neal was able to take all of him, something none of his previous lovers had been able to do. Peter was pretty well-endowed, and he was used to being careful to not get too aggressive when it came to blowjobs. But Neal swallowed him down right away and basically went to town on him.

“God…Neal.” Peter was going to joke about his lack of a gag reflex, but then Neal’s tongue started setting a different rhythm than his mouth, and Peter lost all ability to think. He could only moan, his head thrown back against the pillows, back arching even as Neal’s hands held his hips in place.

He managed to hold out longer this time, but Neal’s ministrations again threatened to bring him off much sooner than he would have liked. Wanting to warn the younger man, he somehow breathed out his name. Neal just gave a quick nod and kept going. With a choked cry, Peter arched up against Neal’s hands and came, squeezing his eyes shut and going still as every muscle in his body tensed.

When it was over, Peter sank back against the bed, panting for breath and completely incoherent. He was vaguely aware of a dull ache in his left leg, and of Neal licking him clean, but even that was quickly lost to an ecstasy unlike anything he’d felt before. Lips ghosted over the corners of Peter’s mouth, made their way up to his ear. He heard his name, a hesitant whisper that tickled his sensitive skin. He shuddered and wanted to respond, but it had been years since he’d had more than one orgasm in a day, and that had been before his injuries. His body and mind were so overwhelmed that all he could manage was a soft groan and a half-shake of his head as he drifted.

The slight chill of sweat drying on his skin pulled Peter back into awareness, and he realized almost immediately that he was alone in the bed. He lifted his head and glanced around the room. Neal was nowhere to be seen, but his phone was on the nightstand and his shorts were at the foot of the bed. The bathroom light was on, though Peter couldn’t see anything through the mostly-closed door.

“Neal?” His voice was still rough, as it always was after sex, but he was sure Neal would have heard it in the otherwise silent apartment. Puzzled, Peter pushed himself up, waiting a moment for his equilibrium to settle before he stood. Still naked, he padded to the bathroom and again called Neal’s name as he pushed the door open.

Nothing could have prepared him for what he saw on the other side. Neal was seated on the edge of the tub, and it was obvious that he’d been masturbating. He quickly stood and backed into the corner, covering himself with his hands, his eyes impossibly wide. 

“Neal – what –?” But Peter wasn’t even sure what to say. 

“I’m sorry.” There was a slight tremor in Neal’s voice, and a bright red blush quickly spread across his face. “I’m – I thought – I…” He trailed off, looking anywhere but at Peter.

Peter didn’t understand what was going on, but it hurt his heart to see Neal standing there looking so startled. He approached the younger man slowly, hands held out away from his sides. Thankfully, Neal didn’t seem bothered by his presence, though he was obviously embarrassed at having been caught.

When he was close enough, Peter reached out and ran his fingers down Neal’s arm. “You okay?”

Neal leaned into his touch and swallowed audibly before managing to speak. “I – I didn’t – I thought you wanted to sleep.”

“Not yet,” Peter murmured, stepping even closer. Neal’s eyes finally came up to meet his, and Peter was relieved to see that hope and even a few hints of arousal had replaced the shame in them. He put a gentle hand over Neal’s, still cupped over his erection, and leaned in next to his ear.

“I’m almost sorry I interrupted you,” he said in a gravelly whisper. “I’d like to watch you get yourself off sometime.” Neal let out a barely audible moan, and spurred on by the sound, Peter licked at his earlobe.

“Peter…” Neal shivered and moved his hands to Peter’s hips, leaving himself exposed. Taking this as a sign that things were okay, Peter started stroking him, even as he continued to mouth Neal’s ear.

“But if you’re up to it –” He twisted his wrist, and Neal gasped. “– I really want to return the favor first.” 

“Please,” Neal breathed. He gave a little thrust of his hips, and that was all the proof Peter needed that things were okay, that Neal wanted what he was offering.

Peter guided them back out to the bed, and this time, it was his turn to take care of Neal. He helped Neal get situated, then leaned up over him and kissed him, almost a little surprised to taste himself in his lover’s mouth. It made him want to know what Neal tasted like, but he forced himself to slow down. 

He started by exploring Neal’s body, hands skating up his lover’s ribcage, across his shoulders, down his arms, as his tongue coaxed Neal’s nipples into hardness. Neal writhed under him, panting but otherwise silent, his chest heaving under Peter’s mouth.

Peter moved on to Neal’s lower body, tracing feathery paths up the insides of his thighs, leaning over and blowing lightly on Neal’s balls. Neal threw his head back, hands fisting in the sheets, but he still didn’t make a sound. It was clear his was deliberately holding back, though Peter had no idea why. He stretched up over Neal and nuzzled his jaw.

“You don’t have to be so quiet,” he murmured. “The only neighbor who might hear us is Mr. Bergen, and he only wears his hearing aids when he leaves the apartment.” Neal huffed out a nearly silent laugh, and Peter chuckled against his neck before moving back down to settle between his legs. 

This time, he took Neal into his mouth right away, and Neal made a needy sound in the back of his throat. Peter wanted it to be at least as good as what Neal had done for him, and he had no doubt it could be. If there was one area where he was the most sexually adept, it was this one.

He’d given and gotten his first blowjobs in junior high and hadn’t looked back, and the man with whom he’d had his only truly long-term relationship had been so into oral sex that he preferred it over anything else. So naturally, Peter had learned, improved, and perfected his technique, and though it had been a few years since he’d used it, he hadn’t lost a step.

He started out on the gentle side, sucking and licking and finessing until Neal was trembling beneath him, a soft but steady moaning escaping from deep in the younger man’s chest. When Neal started trying to thrust into his mouth, Peter picked up the pace and brought his free hand up to stroke Neal’s balls, one finger slipping back to flirt with his perineum. Neal’s whole body tensed, and Peter hummed his encouragement.

With a surprised shout, Neal found his release, his hips jerking up, forcing him even farther down Peter’s throat. Peter was ready for it, though, and he swallowed until there was nothing left, until Neal’s body went limp under him.

Peter pulled off slowly and pushed himself up on his hands. Neal’s eyes were closed, tears streaming down into his hair, and his mouth was open wide, raking in ragged breaths and letting them out in shaky sobs. 

Peter moved up the bed to lay beside him. He rested one hand lightly on Neal’s chest and used the other to wipe away some of the tears.

“Hey, shh.” His thumb swept at the corner of Neal’s eye. Neal’s mouth twitched upward at the corners, even as he fought to come back to himself, and Peter couldn’t help smiling back at him. They rested there for countless minutes while Neal pulled himself back together. Peter was content to simply bask in the afterglow, secretly thrilled that things had gone so well – for the most part. He still had no idea what had happened in the middle, but his gut told him it had something to do with Neal’s mysterious past and his overall lack of self-confidence. He’d let Neal decide, though, whether or not they spoke of it again.

“Peter?” Neal’s raspy whisper brought him out of his thoughts, and Peter pushed himself up on one elbow.

“Yeah?”

Neal wrapped a hand around his neck and pulled him into a sweet kiss. They let it deepen, and Neal made a curious sound when he tasted himself on Peter’s tongue. Peter smiled against his lips as the kiss ended.

“You taste good.”

“Mmm. So do you.” Neal’s hand came around to cup his cheek, thumb stroking Peter’s jaw. “Thank you. Peter, I – thank you. It’s been…a _really_ long time since anyone’s done anything like that for me.”

“Seriously?” When Neal nodded, Peter raised his eyebrows, his smile going a little mischievous. “Well, for the record, I love it. And I’ll do that for you _any_ time you want it.”

Neal fixed him with look that was both fond and grateful. “I’m going to hold you to that, you know.” 

“Oh, please do.” Peter reached up and took Neal’s hand in his own, then brought it down to press a kiss into his palm. “You deserve it. Anyone who’s told you otherwise was wrong.”

Neal glanced away, and Peter wondered if he shouldn’t have made the allusion to the other man’s past. But then he looked back up and smiled, weary but genuine – and beautiful. “I’ll have to get used to being with someone who thinks that. Might not know what to do with myself at first.”

Though he hadn’t wanted to bring it up again, Peter couldn’t help responding with the first thing that came to mind. “Well, if you’re doing something with yourself, can I at least watch next time?”

Neal did a little bit of a double take before chuckling softly. “Yeah, of course. I’m, uh, sorry about that, by the way. Next time, you can definitely watch.” He leaned up and nuzzled Peter’s jaw. “Or, if you’d rather, you can help instead.”

“Mmm.” Peter stretched against him. “Watching’s good, helping’s so much better.”

It looked like Neal was going to reply, but a long yawn interrupted him. He shook his head and mumbled an apology, and Peter grinned at him.

“See. Now you know what happened to me earlier.” Before Neal had a chance to get embarrassed, Peter put a finger to his lips. “Don’t – it’s fine. Why don’t we get some sleep? We can work on the stamina some other time.”

Neal smiled at the stamina comment, but there was still a hint of frustration in his eyes. “You realize that if I go to sleep, I probably won’t wake up until morning?”

“Well, yeah. That’s a big part of why I brought you here in the first place, right?” He planted a soft kiss at the corner of Neal’s eye, and Neal breathed out a relieved sigh. “What time do you need to get up for work?”

“Alarm’s set on my phone.” Neal gestured to the nightstand.

“Okay, that’ll work.” Peter pulled away long enough to lean over the edge of the bed and grab his own phone from the pocket of his lounge pants. After putting it on the nightstand, he snuggled back in beside Neal again. Though he was still fighting to stay awake, it was obvious that the younger man was losing the battle. His mind and body had apparently decided that Peter’s suggestion of sleep was a suitable plan. “Need anything else?”

“No, I’m good.” He gave Peter a chaste kiss. “Peter, I – I love you.”

“I love you, too.” Peter responded with a quick kiss of his own before Neal rolled over to face away from him, pressing himself back into Peter’s still-naked body. After Peter wrapped his arms around the younger man and settled in with him, it took less than a minute for Neal’s breathing to even out as the weariness carried him away.

Peter simply held him, contentment trying to force away the uncertainty in the back of his mind. He didn’t want to push Neal into talking about his past, but he longed to know what had happened and how he could help make it better. Though he didn’t want to jump to conclusions, Peter had dealt with victims of abuse in his years as a police officer, and he’d become very familiar with the signs. It made his heart hurt to realize that he’d noticed some of those same signs in Neal.

“Who hurt you?” he whispered, giving in to the urge to pull Neal even closer, curling the rest of his body protectively around the other man. Though he didn’t wake, Neal seemed to enjoy the added security. He hummed and reached up to wrap his fingers around Peter’s, pulling their hands tight against his chest before going still again.

Surprisingly, that small gesture was enough to push the negative thoughts from Peter’s mind. Neal may have been hurt in the past and was still dealing with the fallout, but in that moment, Neal _knew_ he was loved and cherished. He felt safe enough and trusted Peter enough to let him into his heart, and he’d let his guard down enough to fall in love with him.

There would still be some challenges ahead for them as each worked through their issues and learned how to be whole again, but neither of them would have to do it alone. That thought brought a smile to Peter’s face, and he finally allowed himself to surrender to Neal’s warmth as he, too, drifted off to sleep.

***


End file.
